Cold Feet
by serenelystrange
Summary: Written for Ele. We all know Hardison is in love with Parker. But some ice skating lessons give him another perspective completely...  Be kind, dear readers, I don't generally write H/E. But here we are, lol. E/H & P/H ish


A/N – I don't usually attempt E/H, but it was a request, so please, be kind, :D

.

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Hardison isn't entirely sure when it all started. No, that's not true. He knows when it started. He remembers the moment clearly; the thud of the duffel bag hitting the floor, the fear in his belly, tinged with something else entirely. Something he wasn't anywhere near ready to put a name to yet. Almost painful. But the moment passed as fast as it had come, and he didn't think about it again.

.

OK, maybe he thought about it sometimes after that day. Before the team became a family, when it was all still just a step away from 'just another job,' when he could walk away and it would only hurt a little. Of course, that's when he got wrapped up in the eternal whirlwind that is Parker, and there was no going back to his solitary life.

.

Parker. Even now, he can't help but smile when he thinks of her. Her wild eyes, her mischievous smile, that crack in her heart, the one he's always trying to fix. And then of course there's the thrill that hums through his entire body every time she kisses him, and that little part of his brain that refuses to remember it's all just for a con. There is just something about her, something that makes him want to save her and be saved by her, all at once. But she needs her time, and Hardison understands, and is content to wait as long as it takes.

.

At least, he was. Which brings him back to his current dilemma. He might know where and when it started, but he sure as hell doesn't know when it became so hard to ignore. There's a sharp scrape of metal on metal, as the door to his apartment pushes open, and it's as if a light bulb goes off above his head. Last week. This all became impossible to ignore last week. And it's all Parker's fault.

.

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**LAST WEEK**

"Dammit, Hardison, this is not hard! Just hold still!"

Parker giggled from somewhere behind Hardison, and he didn't even bother glaring at her. Besides, he was a little busy focusing on not falling on his ass. The _whoosh_ of children speeding past him, outright laughing, did not help.

Instead, he focused his annoyance on Eliot, snarling, "Who asked you, anyway? Parker said she wanted to go ice skating, I don't need some flat ironed cowboy to teach me anything."

Eliot, much to Hardison's disappointment, didn't take the bait. Instead he just smirked, and stepped back, removing his steady hold on Hardison's arms.

A moment later, Hardison was cursing that goddamn smirk as he found himself flat on his back, on the ice. Which was _cold_, he'd have you know. He looked up at Eliot, trying to glare, but the sunlight, combined with the white shine from the outdoor ice rink, turned the whole area around the hitter into one giant blur of condescending attitude.

"Come on, Hardison, you can do it," Parker skated smoothly to crouch by his side, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket.

Hardison grudgingly stood up, gripping the side of the rink.

"Fine, but you can help me, not him," he groused, shooting another glare to the still smirking Eliot.

Eliot raised his arms in false surrender. "Hey, man, you two go and have fun. I'm fine right here." He leaned back against the ring, crossing one skate-clad foot over the other.

Show-off.

"It's easy," Parker said, ignoring Eliot completely, and moving to stand behind Hardison, placing her arms over his, just barely.

Hardison gulped.

"It's all about balance," Parker instructed, pulling Hardison's arms out just a bit, before nudging his legs apart with her knee. "Just keep your legs spread out a little and stop clenching your arms so tight, you'll be fine."

Hardison just nodded, trying to stay focused.

"Good, now go!" Parker urged, moving in close to urge her instructions in his ear before giving him a little shove.

Lost in the warmth and sweet smell of Parker, Hardison didn't realize he was moving until a moment later, when the loss of heat kicked in.

But then she was beside him again, and he may as well have been flying.

Not even Eliot and his stupid smirk could ruin it.

.

.

The trouble began that night, as Hardison tried to get to sleep. Thoughts of Parker filling his mind were nothing new, especially at bedtime. And the day had given him more than enough to think about. Her pale skin flushed pink from the cold and exertion, that gleam in her eyes as she skated around him and his wobbly knees, the warmth of her hands, burning through his layers. They skated for hours, while Eliot chatted up no less than five different skater moms. He'd probably gotten all their numbers, too.

.

And suddenly sleep became a problem for another reason. The scent of jasmine gave way to something crisp and strong, simple and yet undefinable. A bright laughing grin faded into that infuriating smirk that suited him perfectly. Cool hazel eyes transformed into soft blue, and the expression in them gave him pause as he registered what he had seen. Hardison shook his head in the dark, ridding himself of the thoughts. Eliot wouldn't be looking at him like that. Or would he?

"Damn it!" Hardison cursed the silent room, but that only made it worse, as the words came back to taunt him, in that soft growl of a voice he'd grown used to.

Damn it all to hell.

.

.

**NOW**

The door clicked shut behind Eliot, as he made his way into the room.

"We should talk," he said the words as if it physically pained him, but they needed to be said.

Hardison nodded. That they should.

.

.

**Six Days Ago**

"What are you doing here?" Hardison squinted at Eliot, who had taken up residence in his doorway at the ungodly hour of 2PM.

Honestly, some people had no respect for gamers with no current con to run.

Eliot shoved a black duffel bag into Hardison's chest as he pushed his way inside.

"Please, do come in," Hardison said dryly, rolling his eyes.

Eliot ignored that and instead trained his eyes on Hardison's outfit, raising one eyebrow slowly.

"What?" Hardison looked down, noting his black pajama pants and worn Dr. Who t-shirt. Perfectly acceptable.

"Not for the rink," Eliot responded, and Hardison looked up sharply. He hadn't said it aloud, had he?

Eliot just smirked. Hardison sighed. He wouldn't be surprised if mind reading was one of Eliot's superpowers, but man, that was inconvenient.

"The rink?" Hardison dared to ask, already dreading the answer.

"Mmhm," Eliot nodded, "Your show yesterday was just sad, son, you need to learn how to handle yourself on ice."

"It wasn't that bad!" Hardison defended, "Plus, Parker's a great teacher, I'll ask her to help me again."

Eliot scowled for an instant before laughing, "You'll be lucky to get through her lessons without a change of pants."

Hardison froze.

Eliot raised his brow, as if in challenge.

"Fine," Hardison sighed, "Let me go change."

"Thatta boy!" Eliot exclaimed, before making himself comfortable on the couch to wait.

Hardison just muttered to himself about scissors and boy band haircuts. Because even Eliot had to sleep sometime.

.

.

"Easy," Eliot instructed, gliding slowly beside Hardison, "There ya go."

Hardison couldn't help but feel slightly proud. He had managed not to fall once yet, and they'd been there for over an hour. And Eliot, well, Eliot wasn't being a complete ass. Hardison wasn't entirely sure what to do with that, to be honest. And, being Hardison, he couldn't leave well enough alone.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked Eliot later, as they packed up their skates to go.

"I'm always nice to you," Eliot responded, looking completely serious.

Hardison just stared. Speechless.

Eliot shrugged, conceding, "OK, maybe not _always_, but I haven't tried to kill you. Or actually killed you. Or even thought about killing you, too much. At least not this week."

"This is supposed to be comforting?" Hardison asked, incredulously.

Eliot frowned, "It's not?"

"Actually," Hardison considered, "It kind of is. But the fact that it comforts me is a little uncomfortable."

"The fact that I don't want to kill you, bothers you because it doesn't bother you?" Eliot drawled, grinning, "Just so we're clear."

"Whatever, man," Hardison huffed, "You know what I mean. A lack of murderous intent is not the good basis for a relationship."

Eliot's eyes widened, which at any other time, Hardison would have found comical, but at the moment he was stuck on panic, after realizing what he just said.

"Relationship as in friendship!" Hardison backpedaled quickly, "Like.. bros, buddies, colleagues even, you know, dudes."

Eliot just smirked, "Relax."

And Hardison found himself relaxing, against his will.

"Sophie been teaching you tricks?" Hardison asked suspiciously.

Eliot's smirk grew even dirtier, if such a thing was possible, "Maybe a few."

If his throat suddenly went dry, Hardison didn't let on.

"Let's go home," Eliot clapped him on the shoulder and hoisted the duffel bag over one shoulder.

Hardison walked a pace behind, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling growing in his stomach.

.

.

**Now**

To say the present situation was uncomfortable would be an understatement. Hardison shoved his hands in his pockets as Eliot moved to stand in the middle of the room. Hardison would be a lot more comfortable if Eliot would just sit down, but he knew standing gave the other man some control.

"So," Eliot began, "About last night."

Hardison couldn't help it, he laughed out loud. Of all the cliches that could be said, this took the cake.

His laughter shook a small chuckle out of Eliot, who stopped his pacing and shrugged.

"Can you think of a better way to start this conversation?"

Hardison pulled his hands out of his pockets and dropped onto one side of the sofa, motioning for Eliot to do the same.

"Usually conversations start with 'hi,'" he smirked slightly at the usual smirker.

A glare was his only reply.

Ah, getting closer to normal then. Hardison felt the tension ease a little bit. Maybe things weren't all screwed to hell just yet.

.

.

**Four Days Ago**

"You're actually doing a lot better than last time," Parker grinned as she skated backwards next to Hardison.

Hardison grinned back before ducking his head bashfully.

"Eliot might have given me a lesson yesterday. And the day before."

"Cool," Parker responded, standing on her toes as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "Now let's see if you how fast you can go."

"Hmm?" Hardison asked, curious and wary at the same time.

"Catch me!" Parker laughed as she took off in a flash.

Hardison sighed. You can't catch lightning. He's never stood a chance.

But a moment later, he's skating off after her anyway.

An hour later, as they're laying on the frozen grass outside the rink, catching their breath, Parker's hand brushes his, and he closes his fingers around hers instinctively.

She makes no move to pull away. That alone should make him ecstatic, and he can't help but think that three days ago it would have. But it's different now. It still makes him happy, still gives him that warm glow, but something is off. Something is missing.

Hardison closes his eyes against the setting sun, and all he can see is blue, staring back at him.

He is so incredibly screwed.

.

.

**Now**

.

Eliot finally sits, much to Hardison's relief. But it presents a whole new problem, as now Hardison can actually feel the nerves running of the other man's body. He imagines the waves are hitting his own nerves in mid-air. The thought is enough to amuse him for a moment, distracting him from the racing thoughts in his head.

Eliot finally breaks the silence. "Should I be apologizing here?" he asks, looking wholly uncomfortable.

Hardison isn't sure, but he thinks maybe apologizing isn't going to resolve anything.

He shakes his head. "No. You don't have anything to be sorry for."

Eliot catches his tone and looks up sharply, "And you do?"

The easy smile that usually dominates Hardison's face is nowhere to be found as he sinks his face into his hands.

It's the question he's been asking himself all night.

.

.

**Three Days Ago**

.

"I really don't think I need any more lessons, man," Hardison groused, half-heartedly, when Eliot showed up for the third time at his door, duffel bag in hand.

He'd been expecting a glare, or a shove, or a growl from the hitter, but none of it happened.

Instead, Eliot just gave him a one shouldered shrug and a small smile. A real smile, not a smirk.

"We don't got a job right now, I'm bored, alright?"

Hardison moved back silently to let him in, before moving to grab his jacket.

Eliot watched with amusement as Hardison pulled on his shoes, noticing that he was already fully dressed.

"I'm bored, too." Hardison defended, "Not like I was expecting you to show up or anything."

Eliot laughed before nodding solemnly, "Of course not."

"Oh, let's just go," Hardison rolled his eyes, leading the way out the door.

"Hey," Eliot said after shutting the door behind them, "We should get some lunch first. I'm kinda starving."

Hardison nodded, shoving his rambling thoughts deep down until they were only whispers. Even Eliot had to eat at some point. It didn't mean a thing.

"Sure, man. I know this great place d..."

"No," Eliot cut him off, "I don't trust any greasy, trans-fat, cholesterol, hellhole you're sure to love. I know a place."

Hardison considered debating, but gave up quickly. He knew Eliot would never tolerate a place without at least one good steak dish and one good beer.

A few hours and one awesome restaurant later, they never did make it to the rink. But with a belly full of too much food and a head full of scary thoughts, Hardison was glad for the excuse to go home.

.

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**Two Days Ago**

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Hardison awoke to a presence in his room. He shot up to a sitting position, willing his eyes to adjust faster to the darkness.

"Parker," he sighed in relief, when her blonde hair gave her away.

Then relief gave way to confusion.

"What are you doing in my room, at 2AM?"

Parker frowned, "Why are you sleeping? You're usually up playing your computer games."

"They're not just...you know what, that's not the point," Hardison shook his head, "What's up? Everything OK?"

"Yes," she replied, in such a way that Hardison wished he had a Parker speak decoder ring, even more than usual.

She moved closer, slowly yet almost instantly, until she was sitting across from Hardison on the bed, cross legged.

"So, why are you here?" Hardison ventured, feeling that uneasy tightness in his stomach again.

He'd dreamed of her in his bed for nearly two years, and now she was close enough to touch and he was nothing but nervous. Though to be fair, she was usually much more naked in his dreams.

The moonlight didn't give much light, but it was enough for him to see the hazel eyes staring at him, somehow even brighter in the darkness.

.

"Do you still love me?"

.

Well. He hadn't expected that.

"You know I do, Parker," he replied, reaching out to rub his thumb across her clasped hands.

She nodded, a curt, quick thing.

"But you love him, too."

Hardison gasped. He hadn't even figured out his increasing attraction towards Eliot yet, never mind how he actually felt.

"I don't..." he began, but then stopped the denial that was on the tip of his tongue.

She could see right through him.

"I don't...know." he finished, giving her a little shrug.

Parker smiled, a little sadly, before getting up to move towards the window, pulling aside the curtain to stare out into the November night.

"It's snowing."

Hardison got the feeling he was missing something in that simple statement, but knew he'd never understand. So he got up and moved to stand beside Parker, wrapping an arm around her waist when she leaned her head on his shoulder.

They watched the snow fall until the street was nothing but white.

.

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**Now**

"I'm not sorry," Hardison decided, definitively.

Eliot gave a small smile, "Well, that's a start."

"I just don't want to lose her," he admitted, giving Eliot a helpless shrug.

Eliot laughed dryly, "In any other circumstance, I'd be kicking your ass for even the possibility of hurting her."

Hardison groaned, "Not helpful."

"I love her too, man, this isn't exactly easy for me either," Eliot growled, control slipping.

"You don't love her the way I do," Hardison argued, "You don't want her the way I do."

"True," Eliot conceded quietly, "I don't want _her _that way."

Hardison didn't miss the connotation.

.

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**Last Night**

"I can't do this anymore."

Eliot looked up, honestly confused, as he finished lacing his skates. "Do what? Skate? I thought you were having fun."

"I am," Hardison replied, looking downright miserable.

Eliot laughed and glided forward onto the ice, moving to stand on the other side of the bar, where Hardison stood in the grass, barefoot.

"Well, then what's the problem?"

Hardison shrugged helplessly, "Your the problem."

Anger and hurt flashed across Eliot's face, he didn't even attempt to hide it.

"No, I mean, damn it!" Hardison was uncharacteristically angry.

"There's nothing wrong with you! That's not what I mean. That's the problem. I'm out here at ten o'clock at night because you thought it'd be fun to ice skate when nobody else is around, and I didn't even question it. I just went with it. Because even if I had said no, you would have gone anyway, and I just would've gone after you. And you! You would have just been here, skating away, with that goddamn smirk on your face, like you _knew_ I'd be coming! And you'd have been right."

.

Eliot moved impossibly closer, until all that separated them was the thing wooden bar. He gripped the bar tightly, to keep control or to use as a weapon, Hardison wasn't sure.

"Why are you fighting this so much?" he asked, softly, moving one hand to ghost a thumb over Hardison's jaw.

Hardison shivered at the touch.

"I don't know anymore," he admitted, letting himself be pulled into the inevitable kiss.

Eyes closed, in the darkness, all Hardison could register around him was _Eliot_. Soft lips, rough hands, rapid heartbeat, pressed against his own matching beat.

Eliot moaned into the kiss as soon as Hardison got with the program, clawing the hitter's shirt in one hand, gripping that bar for dear life with the other, both of them just hanging on.

.

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**Now**

.

"Why'd you run?" Eliot asks, inching closer to Hardison on the couch.

"Got scared."

Eliot nods slowly, "Because I'm a guy... or because I'm me?"

"Because it's us," Hardison answers after a long moment consideration. "You and me, we're friends, half the time. And we hate each the other half of the time. And I'm in love with Parker. Still. But mostly, because I haven't stopped thinking about you all week."

Eliot's smile is wide and bright for a moment before settling back into something more neutral.

"Been thinking about you for months."

Hardison gapes. This was definitely a week for statements he never expected to hear.

He gathers his wits after a moment. "I wanted you, the first day we met," he admitted. "After you took down all those guys before I knew what was happening. I was scared as hell, but I was more turned on than I'd ever been."

Eliot would never admit it, but Hardison could swear he sees the other man blush.

.

"So," Eliot moves closer still, "Now that we both admit it wasn't just a fluke, what happens next?"

Hardison grinned, that smile finally back where it should be.

"I say you kiss me again, and we figure out the rest as we go."

Eliot doesn't speak, just covers Hardison's body with his own and melts into the kiss. As far as he's concerned, it's a damn good plan.

.

THE END


End file.
